


die weiße Fee spannt ihren Bogen

by moon_waves



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutter Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_waves/pseuds/moon_waves
Summary: Some days, Till wasn't even sure they would manage to record their third album before the band imploded on itself.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51
Collections: drops of ink, sechs Herzen





	die weiße Fee spannt ihren Bogen

**Author's Note:**

> Anon's prompt was as follows: _"Till/Richard hurt/comfort - Richard's drug addiction is getting out of hand, but Till is there for him and comforts him."_
> 
> Angst abound - and a warning for everything that one could associate with a drug addiction.

“I truly cannot stand you when you’re like this.”

Till’s eyebrows shot to his forehead as Ollie’s pissed off voice carried to the kitchen, making him pause as he was drying off the dishes scattered over the kitchen counter. He eyed the timer, realized it was about to go off soon, which meant he had to stick around if he wanted to get his cake out of the oven on time, and henceforth not get involved.

He was half-tempted to get out of the kitchen to take a look at what was happening – the coldness in Ollie’s voice was nothing he had ever expected to hear from the bassist, after the decade and a half they had known each other. Of course, it didn’t mean much: there were plenty of things he had never expected to hear nor see that had indeed happened over the past few months – past few years, if he took in account Rammstein as a whole – but it never ceased to surprise him.

“I was just saying –”

“I don’t care what you were saying, Richard. You’re a fucking asshole and you can stick that bass line where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Oh. _That_ wasn’t good – if Ollie was starting to lose his calm…

The alarm of the oven went off and Till looked at the mittens, wondering whether or not he should step in before he saw Ollie walking out of the recording room, looking mightily pissed off. Paul was trailing behind him with an apologetic look on his face – right, this morning had been about guitars recording. All of three of them.

Had been _supposed_ to be about guitars recording.

“He didn’t mean it like that, Ollie...”

“Oh, _shut up Paul_ ,” Ollie hissed, stopping in his tracks before turning on his heels, the guitarist stopping himself at the last second from walking into him. “Don’t act like you’re entirely innocent into _that_ ,” and he pointed at the closed door with a crude gesture. “You were perfectly happy to plan out the whole musical arrangements of the album with Richard before we even met up to talk about it.”

Till winced – there it was, the crux of the problem that was threatening to destroy the band while they were trying to record their third album.

“And I was wrong,” Paul said in a pacifying tone, taking one step back before raising his hands in front of him in an attempt to show his good will. “I know that, okay? I just think –“

“I don’t care what you think,” Ollie interrupted him rudely, towering over the guitarist with all his height – and for once not paying any attention to the height difference while he kept ranting.

Well, if one of them needed a clear signal that Ollie was beyond being aggravated, that was it.

Till shook his head before putting the mittens on and taking the cake off the oven, feeling the weight of the past few weeks particularly heavy on his shoulders this morning. 

“– and the two of you can go fuck yourselves,” Ollie concluded in a hiss.

Paul choked on his breath.

The plate screeched when Till put it on the counter and he swore under his breath, involuntarily attracting the musicians’ attention. They both turned to look at him, a bit surprised to see him standing there – as if they had forgotten he had crashed on the studio’s couch _again_ and prepared breakfast for everyone when they had come in for this today’s recording session. 

“Hum,” Paul said, not quite meeting his eyes, the tip of his ears turning red.

Ollie looked taken aback for a brief moment before shrugging, anger fleetingly turning into annoyance. He glared in the direction of the recording room, then in Paul’s direction, before staring at Till with a frown that mellowed a little when the singer involuntarily took a step backward and hit himself against the cupboards of the kitchen. 

“Good luck dealing with the mess _there_ ,” he finally said in a voice that was attempting to be calm, gesturing at the recording room before turning on his heels and darting towards the entrance of the studio in a quest for his jacket.

Till and Paul exchanged a look before the guitarist shrugged, a helpless expression on his face.

“See you tomorrow?” Till asked quietly as he stepped into the doorframe of the kitchen, unconsciously biting his lower lip.

His heart was heavy as he watched the bassist put on his gloves and hat in rough movements. 

Ollie stilled for a moment, studying him with cold, attentive eyes before nodding sharply. 

“Take care of yourself, Till,” he advised him.

Surprising them all, he briefly squeezed the singer’s shoulder before leaving, the door closing in a loud rattle behind him.

Taken aback, Till looked at the slightly-ajar door of the recording room – there was light peering from beneath it but he couldn’t hear a single noise – before turning his attention onto Paul, who looked particularly tired all of a sudden. 

The guitarist rubbed at his eyes before looking up at the singer, lips stretching in an attempt at smiling.

“I should probably call Doom,” he said hesitantly, the tip of his ears still red.

Till eyed him doubtfully but didn’t say anything. Silence hovered between them for a moment before Paul sighed again, pinching his nose between his fingers for a brief second before looking at Till again. He gestured towards the cake that was cooling off on top of the counter, the smell of warm chocolate floating in the kitchen, soon to permeate the whole studio.

“It’s going to be wasted if you bring it _there_ ,” he said quietly, head tilting towards the recording room, before slowly moving towards the coat rack. 

“We don’t waste food,” Till said calmly, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of him.

Paul shrugged, looking unconvinced, but apparently done arguing for the day.

“Whatever you think is best,” he said in a placating tone while fixing his own hat and scarf. “I’m heading home, I’ll call Flake and let him know not to bother coming here today.”

“He can come this afternoon.”

Till almost didn’t recognize his voice.

Paul shrugged again, but he seemed surer of himself this time.

“Okay,” he said calmly before opening the door. “See you tomorrow, then. Take care, Till.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Till to wonder why exactly he had been advised to _take care_ twice in less than five minutes. Sighing, he shrugged before turning his attention back onto his cake, studying it carefully – it was still hot, the fumes over it quite visible, but they weren’t going to eat it right away, so he might as well bring it directly to the recording room, as well as a bottle of water or two. Maybe some orange juice as well, for a quick sugar fix…

He was stalling.

His cigarettes were sure to come with him – he knew he was supposed to refrain from smoking too much while they were recording, but he was already trying to cut down on the coke, and he definitely needed something to calm his nerves.

It barely took him a few minutes to prepare a tray with everything that he needed – the chocolate cake on a plate, a knife, bottles of water and orange juice – before finally getting out of the kitchen.

Richard was sitting down on the floor of the recording room, music sheets spread out everywhere, Ollie’s bass still plugged on the corner. The light of the recording tapes was off and Till felt himself relax slightly at the sight.

That was at least one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about.

He settled on the ground in front of the guitarist, still holding the tray of food before placing it down. He picked a bottle of water and another one of orange juice and pushed them towards Richard, watching them roll until they hit the opposite wall.

Richard didn’t seem to notice his arrival, methodically unraveling a cigarette until bits of tobacco and paper were spread all over his jeans. Only then did he turn towards the two bottles and studied them for a moment before picking the orange juice.

Till watched the way his shoulders sagged a little but didn’t say anything – not when, and not when Richard slowly drank half of it before pushing it away, making sure it was standing against the wall, the bottle of water soon joining it.

The studio was silent, but Till could still faintly hear the fan of the oven, working at full speed now that nothing was being cooked anymore.

“Did Ollie leave?” Richard asked quietly after a moment of silence, putting the remnants of his broken cigarette in a neat little stack.

Till hummed in assent, studying him – noticing the tremors in his hands, the way veins were so visible under the skin, his bowed head, dark hair falling in front of his eyes.

Richard sighed, still not looking at him.

“Paul?”

“He left too,” Till said quietly before taking out a cigarette and lighting it up.

The nicotine felt _good_ – almost too good – and he frowned a little, wondering if he was supposed to give up smoking as well.

Probably.

On the other hand, it was obviously best for him to keep smoking, even if it was more than before, than to smoke less and do coke, so he inhaled the smoke without any afterthought, focusing on the feeling of relaxation it was bringing him.

Richard still wasn’t looking at him and he frowned a little, trying to assess his state of mind.

He was coming down from a high, that much was clear – skittish and nervous and obviously on the edge, enough that he had managed to wind Ollie up big time, which wasn’t something that happened a lot, even given their current predicament.

He could deal with that.

Had learned to do so.

“I fucked up,” Richard said plainly, finally raising his head to stare at him with unflinching eyes.

Till blinked.

Uh.

 _That_ was new.

“Ollie was pretty pissed off when he left,” he said quietly, nudging Richard’s leg with his foot.

Richard sighed and rubbed his eyes before leaning his head back against the wall without much care.

Till inwardly winced at the loud _thump_ , but Richard didn’t even seem to notice, staring at the padded ceiling without seeing it. The bags under his eyes had grown enormous, standing out over his sharp cheekbones. He was all skin and bones, clavicles peering from under the collar of his shirt, reminding Till of a time long gone.

Or was it? It hadn’t even been a decade since the Wall had fallen, after all – and although it seemed like another life, he couldn’t forget that the East was stuck to his skin, still.

Till shook his head, bringing his mind back on track before nudging Richard with his foot again.

The guitarist didn’t say anything but put his hand on Till’s calf and appeared to forget about it, still staring at the ceiling.

There were pieces of tobacco on his pants but that didn’t seem to bother him.

“I made a cake,” Till said quietly once silence had stretched out for so long that he wondered if Richard hadn’t fallen asleep with his eyes open.

He had burnt out the cigarette against the palm of his hand once he had been done with it and had disposed of it into a plastic cup half-filled with stubs already.

He had spotted Ollie’s and Paul’s favorite brands among the trash and briefly wondered if they had tried to talk before attempting to record a song, before letting the thought go.

Chain-smokers, all of them – that was the one thing he was sure of.

Well, better cigarettes than coke – it seemed to be the only consensus all five of them could agree on, these days.

His attention was brought back to the present as a noise escaped Richard – it would have been a chuckle, in other circumstances, but it was lacking mirth to be worth the name.

“Chocolate?” he asked, finally turning his head to look at Till, a little smile at the corner of his lips.

Till nodded, feeling strangely bashful.

“I tried to make it a fudge-chocolate one, but…”

His voice trailed off and Richard chuckled again. There was no heat to it and Till looked away, unease sticking to his skin. This was –

it wasn’t what he wanted.

And he wasn’t sure he deserved what he wanted, but he was selfish, wanted to be selfish and –

He was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of clothes shifting, and raised his head just in time to see Richard moving from his spot towards him before settling on top of his lap comfortably. He was swaying a little at the sudden change of position and Till raised a hand to his waist to steady him, heart clenching as he felt ribs protruding underneath Richard’s shirt.

“I’m supposed to be the cook,” Richard mumbled with a little laugh before bending down to kiss him.

His lips were dry and chaffed, and Till almost hesitated before nipping at them, not particularly eager to draw blood. His free hand moved on the other side of Richard’s waist and he kept them there, letting Richard tilt his head back – as much as it was possible, with the wall behind him – callused fingers drifting along the sensitive skin of his neck and cheeks.

This was a slow kiss, more chaste than what they usually did and he relaxed into it, gripping a little tighter into Richard’s waist as the guitarist nibbled at his lips, trying to get to open his mouth.

A sense of normalcy washed over him as Richard took the lead and he melted into the kiss, giving back as good as he got. A noise of satisfaction came from Richard and he refrained himself from smiling, comforted by his lover’s approval. That had been a sudden change of mood, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Far from it, actually.

“I like cooking for you,” Till said quietly between two kisses, fingers drifting under Richard’s shirt as the guitarist was shifting over him, obviously getting constricted in his pants.

“I know that,” Richard said impatiently, fingers leaving his cheeks for the fly of his pants before opening his eyes.

There must have been something on Till’s face because he stilled his movements, studying him for a few seconds before leaning back a few inches, hands moving away from Till’s pants.

“And I like when you cook for me,” he said, more gently, keeping his hands to himself.

Till briefly looked away, and his gaze landed on the plate to his right, no fume visible over the cake anymore. Even the slight condensation that had quickly formed on the plate when he had put the cake on it wasn’t present, a sure sign it was ready to be eaten.

If someone was hungry for it, which was another matter altogether.

“Well?”

Till’s eyes moved back to Richard, who was looking at him with slight impatience, head slightly tilted to the side. He pointedly looked at the plate before turning his gaze back onto Till, staring intensely at the singer.

“Are you going to feed me?”

Till’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. Richard kept staring at him, not making any move to help himself from the plate, obviously waiting for Till to do something.

“You want me to handfeed you?” he asked slowly, not sure he had correctly understood.

Two mood swings in less than five minutes was enough to give him whiplash and he bit the inside of his cheek – that was going to make things a little more complicated than he had expected…

Richard shrugged, arms crossed in front of him, leaning back on Till’s thighs.

“Isn’t that why you came here?” he asked with a hint of defiance, impatience still present on his face, eyes cold all of a sudden. “I mean, I didn’t expect to see the day where you would turn down sex in favor of food, but here we are.”

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Till pointed out calmly, fingers digging more deeply onto Richard’s skin. “At best.”

He tried to remember if Richard actually had eaten anything during breakfast the day before, but the only thing he could be sure of was the cup of coffee. Multiple cups of coffee.

“And I don’t want to have sex with you while you’re passed out from lack of food,” he added with a raised eyebrow, slightly tilting his head to the side.

Richard shrugged, but seemed somewhat mollified, the coldness in his eyes disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Lots of people wouldn’t be bothered,” he said calmly, as if it was nothing at all, before uncrossing his arms, letting his hands rest on his thighs.

Till frowned, not liking the implications, but he didn’t have the time to say anything on the topic.

“But okay. Food and then sex?”

There was a hopeful note in Richard’s voice and Till looked at him for a few seconds, trying to push away the unease he had felt at his lover’s words. He moved to hold Richard’s left hand into his own, thumb grazing over the cold, brittle skin for a few seconds before he brought it to his lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

Richard blinked before blushing furiously, taken aback by the small gesture.

Pressing his advantage, Till let go of his hand to cup his cheek, nudging him so that the guitarist would bend down a little before kissing him, setting a more passionate pace before deepening the kiss. Richard moaned in his mouth and quickly held onto his shoulders to regain his equilibrium. He showed no resistance as Till took the lead, instead melting into the kiss, shifting on Till’s lap until he couldn’t get any closer.

It was only when Till felt him shaking slightly under his hands that he finally broke the kiss, slightly out of breath, to stare at Richard. Two bright red dots were clearly visible on his cheeks and he was panting heavily, looking at Till like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Warmth spread in his gut and he smiled fondly, mirth dancing in his eyes as he stared at the guitarist.

“Food?” Till asked, rather innocently.

Richard took a deep breath, closing his eyes before reopening them and nodding. He was still shaking slightly and Till kept a hold on his waist, ready to hold him upright in case he fainted – which he had already seen happen before, though thankfully without any other witness – and then reached for the tray with his free hand. He carefully cut down two slices, noticing with satisfaction that his cake had turned out to be quite fine, before offering a slice to Richard.

Who looked at him with a raised eyebrow, obviously in the expectative, without doing anything to take it.

Till faltered a little.

“You really are serious about the handfeeding thing,” he said calmly, surprise coloring his words.

That wasn’t – they had both done things that were a lot kinkier, but somehow, this seemed to be a whole different matter altogether.

Richard shrugged.

“My hands are a bit busy right now,” he said nonchalantly, still holding onto Till’s shoulders.

The two bright red spots were still clearly visible on his cheeks and his chest had yet to stop heaving, ruining the look of nonchalance he had been aiming for. Tremors were still running through his body and Till frowned for a brief second before setting the slice back onto the plate. He cut it into smaller pieces before taking one and turned back to Richard, who was looking at him with an utterly focused expression.

His pupils were still dilated and Till was suddenly struck by the coldness of his skin, almost icy to the touch under his shirt.

He suddenly regretted not having brought up something warm to drink – maybe if he could coax Richard in the kitchen, later, once they were done…

“Open up,” he said quietly, noticing the way Richard’s eyes darkened before he took hold of the piece of cake between his teeth, licking not so innocently at Till’s fingers in the same move.

He took three bites in rapid succession before pausing, a thoughtful expression on his face. The tremors running over his body hadn’t abated and Till had tugged him a little closer, trying to share some body warmth before resolving to take drastic measures – and dump him in a hot bath before bundling him up and drop him on the couch.

“It’s good,” Richard said appreciatively, licking his lips to get the few crumbs that were still sticking to his skin. “Not your usual recipe, is it? You changed something.”

“I put almonds, too,” Till answered quietly, fingers hesitantly hovering over another bite – barely half a slice had been eaten already, and he didn’t want Richard to lose his focus on the food.

He seemed to have worried for nothing, because all Richard did was hum quietly at his words before looking at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to go on. The rest of the slice disappeared slowly, Till cleaning his sticky fingers against his jeans as Richard gulped down a third of the bottle of water that was still standing next to them before brushing his hand against his mouth.

He looked slightly more focused now, hair more on a disarray than ever, and Till felt a wave of fondness overwhelm him at the sight. Surprising him, Richard smiled softly for a brief moment – and a real smile, not one of those facsimiles he had taken to wear over the past months – before sagging against him and nuzzling in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, both hands holding onto Till’s shirt, more affectionate now than he had been recently.

Till felt his heart miss a beat at his words and he tugged him a little closer, one arm holding him tightly by the waist while he moved his right hand to Richard’s neck, playing with the short hair at the base of his neck.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled into Richard’s ear, not entirely sure what he had been thanked for – but it didn’t matter, and the hug was _nice_ , he certainly wasn’t going to look at a gift horse in the mouth.

Richard had rarely been in a cuddling mood ever since his coke addiction had taken off – which, looking back, had been a telltale sign that something was _wrong_ , because they all knew how tactile he could be. He even remembered Doom complaining that he was a bit _too_ tactile with Ollie when he was drunk, back in the early days, but had always brushed the complaint away, persuaded it all amounted to a healthy dose of jealousy.

(Not that he had been wrong, but well… there were things that all of them were pointedly not talking about, at least until those involved got their shit together.)

Richard was becoming a heavier weight over him, breathing slowly and steadily, and Till hold onto him a little tighter, hand drifting away from his neck to his shoulder, making sure to surround him with both arms. His skin was still so _cold_ and he didn’t like the way he could feel bones protruding.

It made him nervous, and he hid his face into Richard’s shoulder, refusing to let his mind wander down dark paths. He was going to panic if he did that – and if he panicked, Richard would notice, and hold him at arm’s length too, and then… then…

Down the line, there was a phone call he never wanted to take.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, absent-mindedly drawing figures onto Richard’s back, trying to block out everything that wasn’t here and now. Richard was still _there_ , a warm, heavy weight against, and there was no reason for it to change.

Not while he managed to keep a cool head and remain clear-headed. If he could keep his calm, then he could manage to keep some things under control, to _remain_ under control, remain reliable, be… what, a lighthouse in the tempest? Maybe, maybe this was what he could do, but for that, he had to keep his thoughts under control, not think about the worst that could come, about empty beds and side-alleys and phone calls in the middle of the night –

Richard shifted against him and he relaxed his hold a little, hands moving until they settled back against bony hips as the guitarist rose up, holding onto Till’s biceps for equilibrium. The calm expression on Richard’s face quickly dissolved into confusion and then worry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked in a low voice, disconcerted, as his hands moved to Till’s cheeks, fingers drifting against his skin.

Till realized with surprise that there were tears on his cheeks – and he hadn’t noticed it happen. He must have been more tired than he thought, then…

Richard was still looking at him, a pitiful, almost dejected expression on his face.

Till sighed – and his shoulders sagged in the same movement. He looked particularly small and vulnerable, sitting down on the ground as he was, slightly curled on himself – and he didn’t realize at all what it looked like, from the outside.

“I’m worried about you,” he finally said in a low voice, almost unable to stop the words from coming out. “You’re not eating, you’re barely sleeping, and you’re always so _cold_ … Reesh…”

“I’m fine,” Richard said – without any of the bite that usually accompanied these words, the venom that he had directed at their bandmates too many times over the past few months.

His fingers brushed away the last tears that were still glistening on Till’s cheeks – so much for keeping his calm and stopping his thoughts from wandering down a dark path. He shook his head slightly, trying to focus on the present, rather than on a hypothetical sinister future.

“I’m fine, okay? And…” Richard hesitated for a moment. “Okay, maybe I’m not sleeping as much as I should, but we have an album to record, and the guys aren’t –”

“They’re worried about you too,” Till interrupted him.

Richard frowned, two very different thoughts battling on his face before he came to a decision.

“They have a weird way of showing it,” he mumbled before shaking his head a little. “Nevermind. Recording the album is taking all of my attention right now, but I’ll cool down and take it easy once it’s done, okay? Before the tour.”

It was Till’s turn to frown.

“There will be no tour if you crash and burn while we’re recording the album,” he said quietly, still holding tightly onto Richard’s hips, not wanting to set him off.

His mood swings were terrible and one never knew what would set them off – getting high, coming down, waiting for a fix, everything and nothing at all. He had managed alright so far, but…

“I’m _fine_ ,” Richard insisted curtly, fingers digging painfully into Till’s skin before he tilted his head to the side, straddling his thighs once again in a way that left no doubt to his intention. “Come on Till, didn’t you promise me something after food?”

His tone was playful again and the switch in mood left Till almost reeling but he didn’t say anything, just stared at Richard for a few seconds before grabbing him by the neck and kissing him roughly. The surprised mewl against his mouth did nothing for his mood, but he did ease down on his hold a little when Richard’s hands came to his cheeks, forcing him to tip his head back a little as Richard took the lead.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled between two kisses, panting already. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Till opened his eyes, a bit disoriented.

Richard looked sincere in front of him, a slight frown present on his face. Something seemed to be on his mind, because he was gentler now than usual – trying to reign himself in more rather than let the cocaine lead him on.

His fingers were warming up a little on Till’s face, thumbs stroking his cheeks slightly.

That was as much as an apology as he would get – and more than he had heard recently. It would have to be enough.

Was enough.

“Okay,” Till said quietly, tugging onto Richard’s pants slightly, decided to get back onto the program.

“I mean it,” Richard added, a serious expression on his face, and Till let go of his pants, moving his hand back onto the guitarist’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Till said in return, voice a little hoarse – he couldn’t quite say _why_ his voice was so rough all of a sudden, but Richard apparently did, given that the frown on his face deepened.

He was a lot closer to the Richard that Till had fallen in love with – free from cocaine, and he would have done anything to go back to those days. It wasn’t possible, of course it wasn’t, but Richard seemed more like himself now than he had had in months, and Till intended on making the most of it. After all, who knew when it would happen again?

“You’re going to make me lunch later, okay?” Richard asked in a low voice, surprising him again.

Till nodded quietly, not sure where it came from, but more than willing to comply.

Eating more could only be a good thing.

His relief must have shown on his face because Richard kept frowning, one finger trailing slowly down his face before he bent down to kiss him, a soft press of the lips before straddling him more properly.

That was – _this_ was good, and he focused on it, knowing what was about to happen and decided to enjoy it to the fullest.

Richard’s hand creeped down to his pants and deftly unzipped them before pressing against his briefs, making him gasp, surprised by his fast actions. He spread out his legs a bit more to give the guitarist a better access, one hand still at his waist to steady him while the other moved back to his cheek as they kissed again. Richard was quickly stroking him to full hardness and he didn’t try to control it, rather enjoying the feeling of arousal that was washing over him.

“I’m sorry I worry you,” Richard said quietly between two kisses, both hands immobile as he spoke. “Okay?”

Till nodded, the fingers of his right hand still entwined in the hair at the nape of Richard’s neck. Richard kept surprising him today, and only in a good way – he wasn’t going to push his luck any further.

“I love you,” Till mumbled against his lips before tugging him closer so that they could kiss again.

Richard made a strangled noise against his mouth and kissed him more passionately, their noses bumping, before pressing against him with a hunger that Till knew all too well how to handle. He started tugging at Richard’s pants again, trying to get them off – without much success, given the angle he was currently working with – before gasping loudly as Richard’s hand started stroking him again. He panted as Richard laughed against his lips before moving his head slightly to nibble at his jawline, fingers teasingly moving along his briefs.

One particular move of the wrist had him moan out loud and he bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

Richard tutted against his ear.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed, stilling his hand again. “I want to hear you.”

“Don’t stop touching me, then,” Till answered in a low, rumbling voice, not missing the way Richard shivered at his voice.

Two could play this game – and neither had ever lost it.

He slightly tilted his head to the side, looking at Richard from under his eyelashes in a way that never failed to get him to make a move – and yes, Richard’s eyes darkened before he bent down to kiss him, licking at the blood on his lip before pecking his nose.

“If you ask so nicely…” Richard said with a little laugh before kissing him passionately again, hand moving from his bicep to his cheek, forcing to lean his head back a little.

This time, he didn’t try to stop his moan when Richard’s hand reached his briefs, and then, blissfully, blessedly, moved past the cloth barrier to finally _touch_ him. He did yelp a little at how cold Richard’s hand was, before moving to kiss him as an apology, not wanting him to think it was unwelcome.

He had worried for nothing, though – Richard just chuckled, kissing him briefly before moving to nibble at his neck, his left hand holding onto his arm again, before his fingers started lazily stroking him again. It was _good_ – and he couldn’t even try to give back, his attempts at tugging Richard’s pants off always ending in the guitarist stopping his movements until Till’s hand went back to his waist.

He was growing closer to the edge as Richard’s hand kept moving over him, fingers deftly playing him like the strings of his guitar, calloused skin against sensitive skin setting his nerves on fire – and the way Richard was still nibbling at his neck was doing nothing to help him calm down.

He spread his legs a bit more, feeling himself slide a little against the wall, Richard really hovering over him by now – and if that wasn’t a turn-on – a small smile playing on his lips at Till’s head fell forward. There was a little laugh at his ear before Richard finally let go of his neck, kissing his sensitive skin – he was going to have a huge hickey there, he knew it – before settling back on his heels, still stroking him slowly as he approached his climax.

“Come on,” Richard whispered in his ear, a soft little smile on his lips as Till’s head fell against his shoulder, breathing erratic. “Don’t try to hold it out, Till.”

Till whimpered as Richard coaxed him out, a high-pitched sound that resonated loudly in the recording room. There were stars dancing in front of his eyes as he closed them, trying to get his breathing under control, and he could feel Richard playing with his hair, kissing his temple every now and then, fingers still holding him as he spent himself.

It took him a couple of minutes to get his bearing back, a bit disoriented by the onslaught of sensations – he hadn’t expected for his orgasm to be so intense, but there was something about Richard’s closeness to him that had snuck through the walls he had built recently, filling a certain feeling of hollowness.

Richard’s hand was sticky against his skin until he moved it away, a little smirk at the corner of his lips. Till felt his lips stretch into a smile as well before he reached for one of his back pockets, and took out a pack of tissue that he wordlessly offered to Richard.

His lover raised an eyebrow.

“I’m making you lunch later,” Till said simply, pointing his chin at the pack still in his hand.

Richard chuckled before grabbing it and taking a tissue out, making a show of cleaning his hand before giving the pack to Till, who used one to clean himself as well – he didn’t plan on spending the rest of the day in soiled briefs, thank you. Both stained tissues ended up in the plastic cup that was already holding cigarette stubs, before they stared at each other.

Till pondered his options for a few seconds before slowly grinning.

“Get up, back against the wall,” he ordered in a low voice, one hand squeezing Richard’s waist before moving down to pat his butt.

Richard raised an eyebrow, smirk still present on his face.

“Is that so?” he asked with mock-innocence, moving to quickly kiss Till before settling against the wall, hands nonchalantly hidden in the pockets of his pants, willfully straining the piece of clothing so that it would glide down his legs a little.

Till’s eyes darkened.

“It is indeed,” he said with remarkable calm before settling in position, looking up to Richard before licking his lips.

Richard’s hands moved to his head, the right one drifting a little slower so that he was cupping Till’s cheek, fingers gently stroking his face.

“I’m all yours,” he said simply, knowing all too well the effect of his words on Till.

And it wasn’t something neither of them were willing to forget – or give up.

**Author's Note:**

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